


Watching (Your Body Saying Everything)

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [61]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Remote-Control Vibrators, Sex Toys Under Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: “I bought a remote-control vibrator,” Angela says, her topic of conversation completely at odds with the fact that she is currently taking theLongest Roadvictory card from Fareeha, “Jesse dragged me to some sex shop with him for moral support and I saw it and—I know we should’ve talked about it first, but I thought, if you didn’t want to use it, that’s fine, we just won’t.  But I’d like to!  If you’re okay with that.”Or,After finding out that Fareeha likes exhibitionism, Angela tries to find a suitable middle ground.





	Watching (Your Body Saying Everything)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sealfarts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealfarts/gifts).



> mariel had a request during femslash feb that i kinda didnt get around to. so here! its done!
> 
> i ref two other nsfw fics of mine here... sound (of your voice) and (with just one) look, which are about... phone sex and roleplaying a voyeurism scenario, in that order. u dont need to read them to get this! but if ur into those things... they exist

Often, people think Fareeha is cocky when they first meet her.  She does not blame them—society teaches people that if a woman is confident, it must be somehow unwarranted, ought to be punished—but it is not true.  What would be more accurate would be to say that she is a _show-off_ , and a shameless one, at that.

Why not?  She is good at what she does, and has never had any desire to hide that.  For some people it is off-putting, yes, but if her flexing and smirking and twirling rockets between her fingers rubs them the wrong way, then she cannot imagine they are particularly fun to be around, anyway.  What is the point of cultivating something, if one cannot show it off? 

And is she not supposed to be confident?  As a commander, it would be a bad trait, were she hesitant, were she easily discouraged, were she in any way unsure of herself.  That confidence just happens to have combined with her natural playfulness in, yes, a propensity to show off.  Why should that matter?  As far as vices go, it is far from the worst that soldiers are prone to.

When people think she is cocky, therefore, it does not bother her.  Why would it?  They will see soon enough that she is every inch as capable as she claims to be, that she can back up her actions, and she enjoys people realizing as much, enjoys watching the looks on their faces turn to awe, or admiration.

Why not?  Why not, when her dedication, her diligence, the distinction with which she serves go hand in hand with that cockiness?  Surely, she can afford to feel good about herself.

And maybe, just maybe, she likes the watching, too, likes people looking at her, and appreciating what they see.

If that is so, then it is no one’s business but her own.

Or, rather, it is no one’s business but hers and Angela’s, now, because they are a couple, and if Angela is into it—

—Unfortunately, she knows already that it is not something Angela will ever be interested in, exploring Fareeha’s exhibitionist streak.  Unlike Fareeha, Angela is intensely private, so although she is every inch as confident in other ways, she would never feel comfortable trying anything publicly.  As a matter of fact Angela, still closeted, would prefer they not do anything which could be correctly identified as romantic in public at all, and Fareeha respects that, she does, even if she occasionally fantasizes about what it might be like if things were different.

(Were it not for the fact that her mother is also stationed at Gibraltar, currently, and the fact that they are both consummate professionals, Fareeha might suggest that they try something on base, because here, if they are caught, it is embarrassing, yes, but there are no real consequences—but Ana _is_ here, and Fareeha has absolutely no desire to be walked in on by her mother, or even to be walked in on by someone else who might then mention it in front of her mother.)

She never intends to bring it up, knows already that Angela will not be interested, and sees no reason to press.  Part of their relationship, after all, like so many healthy relationships, is _trust_ , and that includes respecting one another’s boundaries, which means not asking each other do things that they know would make the other uncomfortable, without a very good reason.  _I’m horny_ , is not, obviously, a good reason.

But she does bring it up, accidentally, mentions one day, while dirty talking, that she likes to imagine what it would be like for Angela to walk in on her masturbating—even though, in reality, she never masturbates when Angela is in town, feels no real need to, when she could just have sex with her girlfriend instead—and Angela is… not unresponsive.  Fair enough, Fareeha thinks, it is fantasy. 

Then Angela mentions it again, talks about how they might make that fantasy a reality, proposes that they roleplay that exact scenario, together, and that, too, is good, is _more than_ good, and afterwards, Angela admits, that like this, knowing that Fareeha knows and is okay with it, she likes to watch.  That, too, is fine, is nice, is something at least close to what it is that Fareeha has fantasized about, even if she still does not think that anything else will come of it.  After all, it is one thing to roleplay a voyeurism scenario in the comfort of their own quarters, knowing that no one else will ever know, and quite another to actually commit to public sex.

Yet Angela is, apparently, even more interested in this than Fareeha thought, because it is once again she who escalates things, without Fareeha ever needing to push, or even to hint at wanting more.

“You like being watched, right?” Angela asks her, one evening, when they are in the middle of a very _intense_ game of Catan.

“Uh,” says Fareeha, taken off-guard, and decidedly still distracted by trying to figure out how to break Angela’s sheep monopoly, “Yes?”

“Would you want to, ähm, do more?” Angela sounds nervous, as she asks it, in the sort of way that makes Fareeha think that she is far more into the idea than previously assumed.

“Yes,” Fareeha agrees, a bit too quickly, because she did not think this would ever happen, really, thought that if things with Angela continued to go well, it was something she would never have the opportunity to partake in again, “I mean,” says she, trying to be a little more collected, “If you wanted to, of course.  No pressure!”

(And she means it, that _no pressure_ , because Fareeha loves Angela, she does, but her girlfriend has a bad habit of talking herself into doing things, particularly sexual ones, she does not truly want to do, because she thinks it would make Fareeha happy, and then having to back out at the last minute.  While Fareeha will never begrudge Angela safewording, or deciding even before that point she does not want something, it is easiest on both of them if they never reach that point, if they only start things which Angela is comfortable doing in the first place.  It makes Fareeha feel better about herself, too.)

“Good,” says Angela, sounding relieved, “Because I might have, ah, bought something.”

At that, Fareeha raises an eyebrow.  _Bought something?_ When she said she was interested in going further, she thought that Angela meant more traditionally, not—not well, whatever Angela is thinking.  “Oh?” she asks.

“It’s a remote-control vibrator,” Angela says, her topic of conversation completely at odds with the fact that she is currently taking the _L_ _ongest Road_ victory card from Fareeha, “Jesse dragged me to some sex shop with him for moral support and I saw it and—I know we should’ve talked about it first, but I thought, if you didn’t want to use it, that’s fine, we just won’t.  But I’d like to!  If you’re okay with that.”

“I mean,” Fareeha says, “It’s not something I’ve actually tried before, but I certainly don’t have any objections, as long as it’s body safe.”

“Of course it is,” Angela chides her, “I’m a doctor.”

Fareeha supposes she cannot argue with that, and she does not particularly want to, either—she is, after all, eager to try this.

Her eagerness is not rewarded.  First, they have to talk about what, exactly, doing this will entail, have to clearly outline the rules of how this ought to go, their expectations.  Then, they have to test the toy out in their own quarters, to see how discrete it truly is, if the battery life is sufficient for their purposes, and if it is strong enough, and fits in the right places for Fareeha to actually get off, without any other stimulation, which is a tall order.

But it does work, after all—Angela chose well, found a vibrator which provides clitoral and vaginal stimulation, both, and with a rumbly enough quality to the vibe to be strong enough for Fareeha’s tastes without making her oversensitive with sustained use—and, eventually, after they have tested it perhaps a time or two more than Fareeha thinks strictly necessary in the name of replicability (a downfall to dating a scientist), they decide they are ready to proceed.

Or, rather, Fareeha decides, and Angela agrees.

Then, they have only to wait for a good opportunity to use it.

As it turns out, there are few of those.  Although Fareeha would not describe herself as a homebody, Angela certainly is, and she herself travels enough for Overwatch that she rarely feels the need to go out, when they are back on base together.  When Angela is not in town, it is another matter, but the two of them do not go _out_ together often, except to get dinner, or perhaps to see the occasional movie.  Both of those are locations which they have ruled out for trying this—the vibrator does not hit in quite the right place when Fareeha is sitting down, so they need to either be someplace they can lie down, or be standing up.

In and of itself, that, too, would be fine, there are plenty of other things they might use as a pretense to try this, might tell their friends they are going bowling, or to a karaoke night, or any other number of things, but the problem is that if they did so, it is nearly inevitable that someone else on base would invite themself along, as their friends tend to do for all activities that are not ostensibly dates.  Normally, that does not bother either of them, is quite convenient for Angela, who does not want to be seen in public on what is too obviously a _date_ with Fareeha, but now, it is making their lives difficult.

(There really is no greater turn-off than one’s mother’s best friend enthusiastically celebrating _yet another_ strike as he wins his fourth game of bowling of the night.)

Fortunately, Angela is not called a genius for nothing, and she does eventually find an out for the both of them, figures out an activity that none of their friends will tag along for, and carves out an afternoon for the two of them.

 _Shopping_. 

As much interest as many of their friends have in fashion, there is no denying that shopping with Angela is, generally, a boring prospect.  Fareeha might find it charming, but there is no denying that Angela buys the _same_ clothes every season, dresses in almost the same way every day, and there is very little of interest to watching her try on a nearly identical black turtleneck or pair of khaki pants at every store they enter.

Or, normally nothing interesting.

This time, Fareeha finds herself paying very careful attention.

After all, Angela has promised that each time she fails to respond to a question, having zoned out or distracted herself while messaging Lúcio, the power on the vibrator Fareeha is wearing will go up one level—and no matter how quickly Fareeha finishes, they are not going to be returning to base until the normal time, so as not to arouse suspicion, and so Fareeha will have no opportunity to remove it, to free herself of the device until then.

At first, she does it on purpose, avoids answering a question Angela asks about whether she ought to go a size down in a particular sweater just so that Angela will turn the device on, and again ignores a request to _Give me a hand zipping this up, please_ , so that the intensity will increase above mildly annoying and into pleasurable.

That, she thinks, is fine, is fun.  Well, it is perhaps a _little_ frustrating, but the stimulation is light enough that if she really wants to, she can tune it out, can focus on other things.

Unfortunately, she might be a little _too_ good at tuning things out, because in the fourth fitting room of the afternoon, she loses focus again, misses some small cue from Angela, and finds the vibration turned up yet again, and that is a bit much to ignore.

Still, it is not so bad, has her squirmy subtly, when she can get away with it, pressing her thighs together when she stands still, but otherwise, she is fine.  Nothing shows on her face, she is certain, checks in the mirror of the next dressing room. 

But here is the problem: with her focus now slightly pulled away from the task at hand by the toy, she finds herself more and more distracted, and therefore Angela has occasion, again and again, to turn the setting upwards.  To four, to five, to six.  When they tested it, at home, Fareeha never made it past seven, either came there or was else too sensitive to handle speeds eight through ten.

They accounted for this in planning, of course, decided that the amount of time spent at the seventh setting would be limited, would gradually increase with each time she hit it.  Thirty seconds, then a minute, a minute and a half, then two, and so on.

Five, Fareeha knows, is all it takes—less, if they have been at the lower setting for a while.

And it has, by now, been a while, a solid hour and a half, at least, and Fareeha is full, now, of the sort of nervous energy one gains when left on edge for some time, fingers drumming against her arm as she leans casually—or as close to casually as she can—against the wall of yet another dressing room.  She knows, of course, how many they have left, or ought to, helped to plan this, but she lost count, a little while ago, of which number they were on, entirely too focused on other things, like keeping her breathing even, and not letting out a whine when she shifts her weight while waiting for Angela to check-out, and inadvertently presses the external head of the vibe against her clit _just right._

It is torture.  Torture of the best kind, of course, but Angela seems entirely too happy to drag this out for as long as possible, to undress just a bit more sensually when trying on this next set of clothing, bending over with exaggerated slowness to remove her pants, ass on display, and crossing her arms under her breasts in a way which pushes them together whilst ‘thinking’ about whether or not she wants this item.

Fareeha is crossing her arms, too, not out of impatience or consideration, but to hide the fact that her nipple are decidedly hard beneath her shirt.  Of all the days she could have chosen to wear a thin bra, this was perhaps the worst one.  Hopefully no one has noticed, and been too scandalized.

But, then, maybe they _have_ , and that is a delightful thought, that people know, have seen her, so obviously at someone’s mercy, so obviously needy, and they have said nothing, because they want the show to continue.

Another uncomfortable shift, and her face is truly burning, then, flushed by arousal more than anything. 

Angela notices her blush, or her shifting, or something, because the number of sly glances she sends Fareeha’s way greatly increase, then, and she flushes at the tips of her ears, the same way she always does when she is turned on.

Mostly for show, Fareeha gives a whine, and a little pout, watches as Angela reacts to that, meeting her eyes and biting her lip, obviously just as into this as Fareeha is.

Or, not quite as into this—that would be quite difficult—but very much so.  Fareeha checks, as she undresses, sees that the gusset of Angela’s underwear is _soaked._

She cannot resist commenting on it, coming up behind Angela and whispering something to her about how very wet she is, and for that she is punished, her girlfriend quickly changing the setting up to seven.

There is a considerable jump in intensity, between the settings, and Fareeha is not expecting it, does not notice one of Angela’s hands drift to her pockets, so her knees almost buckle when the strength of the vibrations jumps suddenly, has to work hard to suppress a moan in response. 

 _Quiet_ , she has to stay quiet. 

(In theory, Fareeha ought to be good at that, has plenty of experience in barracks and bunks suppressing all noise as she pleasures herself, but it is one thing to be quiet under those circumstances, and quite another to be so here, where she is not at all in control, and the situation is far more arousing than any fantasy.)

Thirty seconds ends too quickly, with Fareeha still on edge, not able to get off in so little time.

It would be easier, she thinks, if she could, might take the edge off, a little, but even when she tries, afterwards, clenches around the toy and focuses on the feeling, it is not _quite_ happening, not before Angela is pulling her from the dressing room, out of the store, and into the street. 

Appearing normal is harder, now, and it feels like every person they pass is staring at her, that they _know_ , and it only makes the feeling better.  Why would they not stare?  She knows how attractive she is like this, blush high on her cheeks, lips swollen from having bitten them, eyes bright with arousal--and everyone who sees her, who puts two and two together, they must know that she is doing this with _Angela_ , who is walking calmly beside her as if she has not a care in the world.

That is overwhelming in a different way, the idea that people might see them together, might realize, might _know_ , because that is what Fareeha wants, really, to be seen together, for the world to know not only about herself, but about her relationship, the love they have between them.  It, more than anything is worthy of showing off.

Somehow, that heightens the experience, the emotional aspect, and she thinks that—

—Angela must have said something, and she must have missed it, because the intensity of the vibrator kicks up again, suddenly, and she drops the bag she is holding, squeezes her thighs together, thinks _yes, now,_ tries to seem as normal as possible even as people pass them by, and Angela moves to pick up her things, and she thinks if she just focuses then she might come, finally just a second more and—

—And the vibrator lowers, again, several settings this time.

“ _Not here,_ ” Angela hisses in her ear, and if Fareeha were thinking more rationally, she would agree.  What she wanted was a _little_ risk, the idea that she might be seen, not to _actually_ come while standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Of course, Fareeha is not thinking entirely rationally, by this point, and almost whines in disappointment, stumbling to keep up as Angela drags her by the wrist into a little alleyway, just out of the eyesight of most people. 

From here, she can see others passing by, never looking once in their direction.  Angela moves to stand behind her, turns the vibration up, and stands on tiptoe so that she can whisper in Fareeha’s ear.

Her words wash over Fareeha, a mixture of praise about how beautiful Fareeha looks, like this, how good she was, and reminders, that she ought to stay quiet, that any passing stranger could look over and see them, at any moment, if they cared to glance down the alleyway, that even now, she might be _seen_ , found out, that anyone might stop and stare.

 _Yes_ , Fareeha thinks, if someone saw them they would see them _together_ , and there is that longing, again, to be seen, to be known, to be able to be proud of who and what they are, but Fareeha pushes it away, focuses on the sensation, the rumbling against her clit, and inside her, the whispering of Angela’s voice in her ear, the pride that accompanies knowing how good she looks, like this, the thought that, should someone notice, they would want her, too.

She is beautiful, she is wanted, she is seen and—

—And she is choking back a sound, as she comes, Angela moving to hold her up, the shopping bags forgotten at their feet.  It is hard, staying quiet, thought she knows she should, because they do not _actually_ want to be discovered.

But she does.  She does, and when it is over, Angela releases her, turns off the vibrator that is now too much on her sensitive body, and checks in on her.

“Everything okay?” Angela asks her, searching her gaze for something.  “I have a water bottle and protein bar in my bag.”

“No,” says Fareeha, “I’m fine,” and she realizes she _is_ , that maybe she cannot be seen in the ways she wants to be, and dare not push Angela to allow that, out of respect for her boundaries, but Angela is trying, for her, is doing everything she can to ensure that Fareeha’s needs are still, somehow, met, and that she does not feel she is missing out on anything.

“Everything’s fine,” she repeats, and means it.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic v much inspired by that one pharmercy art by tom-nsfw on tumblr that alas cannot be linked bc tumblr nuked it off the face of the earth. and op's blog with it! too bad bc it was literally perfect. and i like never say that bc i genuinely dislike most nsfw art ALSKDJFALKSDJFALSDFA BUT IT WAS SO GOOD
> 
> anyway. hope u enjoyed! have a great day, & lmk ur thoughts <3


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